Folly
by monkey-in-hell
Summary: One shot, set at some point between series one and two.


A/N A very quick drabble/one shot 'cos I promised that I wouldn't write anything whilst series two was airing. Whoops.

Folly

The faint din from below reached warmly upwards and she smiled at the thought of the night that lay ahead. Celebrating the successful closure of a case was certainly more fun in the 80s; she couldn't remember such high spirited festivities taking place in her previous job though maybe she'd always had a reason not to attend such events. In this world that wasn't something she had to worry about and though she missed her daughter, sitting alone in her flat night after night wasn't going to help either of them. If she had to play along with this world, she would. It was surprisingly easy to do anyway. Checking her reflection one last time she headed towards the door only to stop short and head to the living room instead to rescue her door key from its resting place on the coffee table. As she turned to go she managed only a couple of steps before something caught her eye, her smile fading at the sight. She slowly edged towards it, thoughts of the night ahead following the same path as her smile, as she chewed on her lower lip in silent contemplation at the object in front of her.

She really should have taken it down months ago, right after her hopes had been burned to ashes by a violent explosion - the very same blast that had managed to wrench her heart from her chest by the sheer emotional force alone and for the second time in her life. She should have ripped it down straight away, piece after useless bloody piece, for all the good it had done her. But she'd hesitated. It'd had been such a big part of her life here, there since her very first day; a way for her to focus her thoughts, a way to try and make some kind of sense of the world that she'd found herself in. Taking it down had felt on a par with giving in. And in those dark uncertain weeks following the explosion, when she'd finally had the answers to a puzzle that had tormented her for too long but in receiving them had only been left with just as big a puzzle concerning this life, leaving it there had served as a visual reminder of what remained important in all of this mess. A reminder that though she may have lost one battle she had to keep on fighting. Whenever she'd felt her heart sinking easily into the prospect of being stuck in a world that wasn't hers a quick glance would be enough to pull her back out, to keep her pushing forwards. Yet somehow it was more than that.

Sometimes, if she'd been flicking through the meagre offerings on all three channels the television offered or perhaps scanning through the pages of a book, something in those activities would spark the beginning of a memory; the link would be small and tenuous at best but it would be enough to send her off in a tailspin, one that left her struggling to locate all of the details involved. She'd flounder in the dark of her brain, knowing the answer was in there somewhere, whilst the rising panic at forgetting something so simple only hindered her endeavours, until her gaze sought out the familiar decoration on the wall of her living room and she'd suddenly remember the name of Molly's favourite teacher or the password to her laptop or exactly where the Millennium Dome was located.

Other times, pre-empted by a gruff voice beckoning her via the telephone or the clock on the wall warning her that she was running late, it would catch her eye as she rushed out of the room, drawing her towards it like a beacon, and she'd pause in front of it - in the process incurring the wrath of an impatient man - to take the time to remind herself that this wasn't real, that he wasn't real, and that all that mattered lay elsewhere, not in the thrill of the chase or the cuffing of some piece of scum or even the hard-fought for and satisfying confession that would keep some bastard off the streets for a very long time.

Releasing her lip she let out a soft sigh. As reassuring as it could be at times - and the times that she'd come to fall back on it to remember what she'd lost had insidiously increased the longer she'd remained here - her eyes would always stray towards the birthday cake, resplendent with candles of course, and she'd remember the birthday party that she, now quite obviously, wasn't going to make it home in time for; she'd remember the daughter who was missing her mother, the child who would perhaps lose her mother. And that thought would draw her gaze to the last box on the calendar, to a date she'd never had the heart to mark off with an 'X' as she had done with each of its counterparts; a date that still caused her insides to spasm sharply.

Reaching out with one hand she briefly ran a solitary finger over the the cartoon cake before trailing it down the longer vertical line of the cross that was drawn in the last dated box. The date she'd thought she could change. The date she'd thought she was going home. The words 'Mum' and 'Dad' hovered above her fingernail briefly before the bright red of the letters blurred into one single illegible line as tears filled her eyes.

And this was the downside, the part that she hated. Her refocussed thoughts would always be overshadowed by the emotional black hole that was threatening to mar her life here and as time had passed - unmarked since that awful day in October because she didn't know when she was counting down to now - she had come to rely upon it less and less, making the whole reason for leaving it up there entirely pointless. And now when she struggled to remember some small detail of her other life she fought against looking at the pictures on her wall and instead let the niggling feeling of loss melt away; the smaller details weren't important anyway - they weren't going to get her home. And now when she walked by she no longer stopped to dwell on the peculiarities of her life here, hurrying instead to the waiting car outside and the adventures that - and the people who - made her feel so alive.

She trailed her hand away from the tenth of October and blinked back her tears, finally coming to a decision that shouldn't have been so hard to make. Starting to fade in parts, beginning to curl in others, it had outstayed its welcome. She really should have taken it down before now, she couldn't remember why she'd gone on hesitating for so long - it was just a reminder of all her failures.

Pulling off the first scrap she felt a ripple of relief wash over her and she continued on quietly and meticulously, gathering all the clues she'd harvested over those few torrid months into one hand as the other picked away at the mural. She wasn't giving in, she reminded herself, she was just making a fresh start. There had to be another way out of this world and she'd find it. She would keep on fighting and she would never, ever, forget who she was fighting for - she didn't need a few pieces of paper for that. An image of her daughter's smiling face flashed into her head and she hung onto it until the last sheet of paper easily gave up its hold on her wall.

Her task completed Alex took a small step back in appraisal. All that remained was a blank red wall and she couldn't help but think that it looked so much better now. Maybe she could make a few more small changes to the flat if she was going to be staying here longer than she'd anticipated - that bed had to go for a start. She played with the idea for a moment, imagining how she could improve each room, until a roar of laughter, quickly followed by a deep commanding voice, rushed upwards into her flat and she snapped out of her reverie, idly dropping the papers onto the kitchen counter before she left the flat and floated downstairs.


End file.
